


Signals

by Alias_B



Series: Jim Hopper and Lucy Garland: looking for the magic. Deleted/AU Scenes [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Diabetes, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Hypoglycemia, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alias_B/pseuds/Alias_B
Summary: Chief Jim Hopper takes care of a friend at the station when she goes into hypoglycemia. They pine after each other with no end in sight. Practice drabble for a bigger fic I want to write down the line so I'm just having fun with shaping Jim/Lucy.
Relationships: Jim "Chief" Hopper/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Jim Hopper and Lucy Garland: looking for the magic. Deleted/AU Scenes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784749
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Signals

**Author's Note:**

> Just for the anon who requested a blurb of some Hopper/OC where Jim takes care of a diabetic gal when she goes into hypoglycemia. Frankly, I don’t have the details of this fic ironed out. A LOT is up in the air bc I’m changing everything I had written so let’s just pretend my OC, Lucy, is filling in for Flo bc she has some family thing to tend to for a couple months. I think I'm going to do something different with her but we'll see! This is a taste of them I guess? Fluff and pining? Pancreases suck. Billy/Camille is still my focus! But, this drabble was fun! Also, the first time Jim/Lucy is seeing the light of day. Thanks, anon! XOXO

Jim hated her dress.

Too bold for the morning especially when he was nursing a headache at daylight. Candy apple red like something from the Fourth of July Fair. Dash of citrus orange. Mouths watered for a bite. Tacky print that was vaguely tropical and sketched onto fabric. Loud against all the khakis and blues dancing around her.

Lucy enjoyed vibrant garments for someone who said very little. Some would say shy until you got her talking. Took months of careful banter to get her joking with the boys. But, the clothes fooled you.

They made for good conversation when El visited the station once. Not like there was a dress code for the secretary, she was always put together. Colorful and saccharine through all four seasons.

Today, the fans blew her skirts and perfume all about. Filled the station air with _her_. Jim readied to drop a file on her desk and caught lashes fluttering up to see his eyes. Hair blown out perfectly against a little desk fan for a look that was pure Hollywood. She stood out under dull lighting, skin bronzed and glittering brown eyes you could sink in.

And how he resisted.

“Something for me, Chief?” It wasn’t until a manicured hand tugged at the papers that he realized he’d been hovering there like an idiot for a good minute. “I’ll file it. Still waiting on Callahan’s report.” She tucked her hair, oblivious, and stood to turn to the row of cabinets. Bending over to organize it properly away in the correct place.

Everything was just so. Neat. Straight as an arrow. Often she stilled to put items in their correct places. Straightening pens an inch apart exactly or adjusting supplies upright. Like she was forcing a messy world to make sense.

“You finish the-?”

“Just typed it.” A flick of her wrist plucked a paper up from the typewriter, offering it. Mauve painted lips spread to smile. One that dazzled his boys. “Next one won’t be long.” Jim exhaled out his nose. Took it.

“Thanks.”

He hated her dress.

Hottest week of summer and the air conditioning goes out, meaning battle stations. Every ceiling and desk fan on full blast. Few of the guys brought standing ones from home.

Papers threatened to fly all over were it not for Lucy smacking anything she could down as a weight. Staplers, pictures, apples. Shiny like her damn dress. Nothing was out of place on her watch.

“You ever see the movie _Seven Year Itch_ , Chief?” One of his officers had said later at the moment Lucy gasped to stop files from tossing upon Callahan’s desk.

A whoosh of air threatened the delicate balance. She planted his nameplate down at the same time hands slapped a swell of forms from flying away. Her skirt had flown up tender thighs to expose the garters holding nude stockings briefly.

 _Gulp_.

“Would you quit acting like an animal?” Jim whacked the officer’s legs off his desk. “Mrs. Gillespie called again, all yours.” His guy huffed and plucked a hat up to go.

“You saved my day, Lucy.” Callahan’s nervous laugh caught.

“You owe me.” Lucy tapped the papers together and offered them. Jim poured himself another full coffee. She stood up and crossed through the sea of desks back to reception. Eyes followed the splash of color. “Handyman should be here in an hour. Unless one of you boys wants to impress me?” Two officers actually shot up to go downstairs hoping to fix the damn AC.

“Shouldn’t make bets like that, they’ll kill the rest of the power.” Jim had one elbow up on a file cabinet, sipping.

“Does that mean an early day for us?” She busied away to sort the in and out stacks upon her desk.

“Afraid those rules don’t apply to us.” Jim shifted when her perfume swept him at the fans beckoning. _Beautiful_ by Estee Lauder. Only knew because he bumped into her buying it at Starcourt a few weeks ago. Ran away after some small talk. “Don’t like it here?”

“Like it plenty.” Brown eyes made a slow journey to see him over her shoulder. “Never a dull moment.” Jim’s lips quirked at that. A ways behind him, Powell was fiddling with the radio to let music pour over the rustling sounds of fans against pages. Lucy reached for her own mug and Jim caught a bead of sweat trail down the back of her neck.

“Any left in the pot?” She said.

“Davis snagged the rest.”

“Fresh pot it is, then.” Lucy blinked up at him looking flushed.

No pink in her cheeks despite the heat.

Jim crossed away to Powell’s desk when she instead began another batch of coffee. Picked up the pot and felt a dull electric sensation pulse through fingers. Gave it a quick wash and waltzed back in. Lucy set it in place and stared momentarily as if the next step was forgotten.

That same prickling flooded the length of her spine. Heat itched over her scalp as boys chattered behind her. Jim leaned against a short counter and chuckled at something she didn’t catch. Fingers flexed. Picked up a spoon to fill the paper filter. The prickling became heavier. She inhaled deep, leaned into the fan next to her. Swayed a little upon heels. Waves rolling along a distant shore.

A hand came up to rub her neckline. Felt for the thudding pulse there. Shifting dark, styled locks of hair away.

Jim’s eyes lifted at the movement of her skirts. The following stillness that took her over. Lucy wasn’t as loud as she dressed, but she was always moving. Even at her desk. Shifting about. Twirling hair. Clicking nails. Fussing with file after file. Rearranging anything and everything.

The rustling and radio became one sound. A shrill bellow like a gust of static. Lucy spooned coffee grounds. Once. Twice. A clatter caught Jim’s full attention. The silver spoon hitting the tile with powdery grounds scattering the toes of her shoes.

“Lucy?” He began, setting his mug aside when the few officers in turned as well.

“S-Sorry…” The word slurred longer. She bent down, only got halfway before her hand came up to a pounding temple. Like something struck her. Lucy shot up so fast, she barely caught herself wavering back. A drunken sort of movement. Both arms gave a tremor.

“Lucy!” Jim sprang forward this time. A big arm curled around her spine, brought her shaking body into his frame. One elbow instinctively pushed at his chest. Fingers came up to tug her collar in a confused motion.

“Spilled.” She said with little awareness, eyes hooded.

“I’ll call-”

“Grab a soda from the fridge.” Jim snapped the order before Powell could get the phone. “Now!”

“But-”

“She’s a diabetic, she needs sugar. _Do it.”_ The harder command made him move quick.

“Lemme go.” Syllables weaved together awkwardly. Lucy felt around herself. Smacked up at Jim holding her upright. Her head twitched with every rattle of bones. Limbs stopped listening. Synapses sent messages all directions that were ignored. Flesh could have melted off bone and muscle. “Lemme go!” Sweaty and irritable, she blindly pushed at Jim who only brought her tightly against the hard lines of his chest.

“Chief.” Powell clicked the can with Callahan hovering to help aimlessly.

“Lucy, drink this.” Jim almost had the can shoved out of his grip. Crisp soda splashed the floor.

“Got it…I got…it.” She skidded. Dug her heels into the tile. “Cookie. M-My purse. Ngh, lemme go!” She’d drop if he released her.

“Soda is better, drink it.” Jim forced the can to her lips while she whipped around. Arms curled to her chest until her body was near convulsing. Fizzy soda slipped between her lips, dripping to stain the dress. An ugly force pushed at her body. Lucy slowed, fingers curled around Jim’s wrist as she choked and drank some. Coughed and flopped up until it bubbled out her nose. “There, you go. Give it a second.” Jim was delicate, the way he helped her back into a stuffed chair with her legs all jelly.

“Towel.” Callahan came next. “Should we call someone for her?”

“ _Ngh_ …” The word didn’t come so Lucy shook her head fiercely. Childlike. Hand still wrapped around Jim’s wrist when he gave her another long gulp. Coke sloshed down into her stomach. Lipstick smeared so he traded the can for a towel to blot her mouth. Brown eyes fluttered open again, heavy. She felt Jim’s pulse and took a deeper breath. “Fine. Don’t call. Ju… _Don’t._ ”

“Give her some air.” Jim got his guys to back off. “Luce, are you with me here?” She swayed out and narrowed on him. Let him pat her forehead with the towel. A thumb wiped just under the swell of her bottom lip. Fixed the color that smeared there. Jim’s eyes locked on her, mouth parting. A lazy smile crept upon her expression. Jim’s arm was still firm around the curve of her limp body.

“No one’s ever called me, Luce,” she rasped instead, “if you can believe it.” A scoff caused his own lips to lift. Blue eyes flickering.

“No one’s ever gone into hypoglycemia in my station.” He’d countered.

“Usually wait till I clock out.” She gripped at him and stole the towel to look at her dress, splotched in dark spots. “Aw, shit.” The word puffed so soft, he barely heard it. Never heard her curse. Lucy seemed to realize it. “Sorry.”

“No, I…” Jim felt her fingers slip from him. Stared down at his hand before he offered her the Coke. Lucy pressed her lips at him but took it without argument for another drink. The towel rubbed against the wet spots, almost pathetically. He picked up on her growing discomfort. “I can drive you home or something. You want to change.”

Lucy was still scrubbing herself with an annoyed look, slowing to glance up with pink cheeks. Every officer who was staring snapped away from them.

She frowned.

Anything to get away from those eyes peering as if she were helpless.

“Fine.” The sour note struck Jim so he didn’t immediately pull her up. Let Lucy push herself to stumble into him. “I’m fine.” Jim’s hand neared her back, but didn’t make contact. Just carefully ushered her to reception to grab her purse. Still lightheaded, she slowed again and sighed. Took his offered arm. They got to his car and the sun blared. AC blasted when he started up to go.

“Where’s home?”

A beat.

“Left up there.” Came the quieter reply. “I live on Elm.”

“Sure you’re-”

“Listen,” she cut in, “that doesn’t happen… I mean, it does, but not that bad like it did. Haven’t had an episode like that in a few months actually.” Fingers fussed to get her hair back into place.

“Well,” Jim swallowed and tried to be lighter, “good thing you’re in a station full of Hawkins’ most observant police officers.”

His sincere way of making her feel not helpless scorched.

“Oh, are those their titles? All the napping and poker games between calls instead of finishing reports I have to beat out of them.” A brow raised, purse clutched close to her chest.

“Wouldn’t fit on the badge.”

“Ah.” Lucy turned her head to look outside with a smile. Hesitated. “Thanks, Jim. For, uh…”

“Don’t mention it.” He gripped the wheel to turn.

“The slapping at you and anger is, uh, part of it.” She offered mutely. “Get confused in the shuffle and…it’s scary. I never want to feel that damn helpless. Stupid fits. All because one organ is broken and that organ dictates the rest of them. Feed it insulin, too much kills. Feed it sugar to balance, too much kills. Big joke if you ask me, can’t make up its mind.” Lucy didn’t chuckle that time. Didn’t smile.

“We’ll keep the fridge stocked. Soda. Juice. Whatever you like to balance.” He said. Turning to see her eyes lift. “You don’t have to go hiding in that ratty bathroom to test yourself or take shots, you know. Desk is fine. Not like the boys will get queasy.”

“Bunch of tough guys.” She licked her lips, pulling a mirror down to wipe smeared eye makeup away. “Won’t happen again… This is me up here.” She pointed to a house.

“Don’t promise that, just take care of yourself and we’ll pay attention to whatever signals you put out.” He parked.

“Oh,” Lucy faced him with searing eyes again, “where you not before, Jim?” A hum vibrated her throat. Shy and still going in for the kill. Jim’s breath caught and she looked truly amused, batting those insufferable, dewy eyes before getting out.

“Lucy.” Jim stilled. A long, luxurious beat between them. A warm bubble bath to sink into. Neither succumbed long enough.

“Yes, Jim?”

Nerves plucked.

“Sorry, about the dress.”

“I didn’t like it that much.” She smiled fuller at him, too soft about it.

The door shut.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write more Jim after I finish Billy and Camille's story


End file.
